


Spideypool Prompt Fills

by Sintero



Series: Prompt Fills [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintero/pseuds/Sintero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a repository of prompt fills for the Spideypool pairing in Marvel fandom, as requested on Tumblr and AO3.</p><p>Chapter titles will have the pairing, rating, and any specific trigger warnings that may apply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peter Parker/Wade Wilson  Rated: M

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello again. Due to the sheer volume of prompts that came in, I have split _Drabble Prompt Fills_ into their constituent fandoms. Enjoy!
> 
> Go here to request your own prompt fill: [WrithingBeneathYou](http://writhingbeneathyou.tumblr.com/) @Tumblr

This is a prompt fill for @Scorpling who requested: “Spider-Man finds Deadpool in nice lingerie, and he's pleasantly surprised (make it naughty)”

 

Peter

You’ve had a really long week.

And today was just the cherry on top of the shit-stained sundae that is your life. Lord knows why the Green Goblin thought it was a good idea to tear ass around the mall like a teenager with a trust fund, but here you are, lying on the floor of the Victoria’s Secret covered in the remnants of overpriced clothing and pretzel salt. Luckily you were able to mostly contain the blast radius of the cluster bombs to the local Hollister.

No real loss there.

Winded, you simply lie amidst the pile of smoldering lace underthings and idly glance around the store. The window front is a complete loss and most of the rail-thin mannequins have melted into a gruesome representation of the degradation of society, or some other such bullshit. You sigh and let your head drop back. It’s only then that you realize that you’re not actually alone in the evacuated battleground. Instead, you catch sight of a pair of lace-clad legs cautiously stepping out of the only dressing room still standing.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that,” Wade remarks, one arm on his hip as he surveys the damage.

Your jaw drops, or it would if your head weren’t hanging upside down from atop a pile of panties.

Wade just stands there, completely unaware of you and your, though you hesitate to admit it, lecherous gaze. Who could blame you though? For all bazillion pounds of muscle, the merc can really pull off a matching maid-style bra and panty set.

“Waaade…” you begin, drawing his name out into a needy whine, but fortuitously succeeding in resisting the urge to make grabby hands at your hunky boyfriend.

“Holy shit! Baby Boy!!” he exclaims, immediately zeroing in on your torn suit amid the colorful underthings strewn across your chest. “What are you doing here?” you ask, still somewhat dazed at just how quickly blood is fleeing your brain in favor of making a last minute reservation at hotel crotch.

“Oh, you know, just picking out a little something for the birthday boy,” he answers with a smile behind the mask, leaning over to hoist you out of the frilly clothing pile and firmly against his nearly bare chest. You instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist, and bite back a moan. The faux breasts pressing against your chest are confusing but the friction of Wade’s rough skin pinning your cock between your stomach and the spandex of your suit is achingly familiar.

“Well, it looks like the surprise is spoiled now, Petey Pie. But I think I know just how to make it up to you,” the merc says, voice husky in a way that makes you subconsciously grind your hips against his wash-board abs. “Jesus,” you respond, embarrassed at the neediness in your own voice.

In what seems like an instant, Wade hauls you back into the one dressing room that was lucky enough to withstand the lackluster bombing raid, and sets you down gently on the plush seat. He pulls your suit down reverently, but leaves the mask. You gasp as your dick springs free and brushes against Wade’s own erection where it stands tall and heavy despite the lace and satin constraints of his tiny thong. All of the week’s troubles are reduced to nothing in the wake of your overwhelming arousal. Your chest clenches with fondness at the thought of Wade traipsing through lingerie stores to find just the right mix of satin and lace to get your engine revving. And you have to admit, the maid theme was a good choice.

Perceptive bastard.

“But…I don’t even like lingerie, Wade. Not even a little bit. I really hope you kept the receipt," you lie outright with a grin, head falling back as his chapped lips plant a line of soft kisses down your chest.

Despite the rumpled half-mask, you can see him glance pointedly at you swollen cock and lick his lips.

“Admit it, Baby Boy, you can’t get enough of _femme de menage Deadpool_ ,” he says in a terrible French accent before unabashedly, and quite enthusiastically, swallowing your cock.


	2. Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Loki/Tony Stark  Rated: T

This is a prompt fill for @asteelygenius who requested: “Domestic Smartass family (Loki and Tony as Peter’s fathers) + Spideypool.”

 

**Wade**

“So, you are still in my house it would appear,” Loki remarks as he strides purposefully into the massive kitchen where you are currently making pancakes for your favorite arachnid lover-boy. The jackass says it like you haven’t been a permanent fixture in Peter’s life, and the Avengers Tower, for the past four years.

“Uh, yeah?”

He glances dismissively at your low-hanging sweatpants and pink-frilled apron as the steady sizzle of butter and pancake batter fills the yawning chasm between you.

“And why, pray tell, are you still here?” the god asks in a deceptively conversational tone as he begins to dice a massive apple on the adjacent countertop. The angry chop of the blade belies his true thoughts on the matter.

“Because I love him,” you respond without hesitation, catching onto the underlying meaning in Loki’s question. The ease of the admission takes you both by surprise and the image of the spatula in your hand starts to waver in your vision.

Loki sighs heavily, but lays down his knife on the moist chopping block and slowly hangs his head, drawing your attention. You’ve never seen Peter’s adoptive father with anything other than cool confidence, so to watch him dolefully brush his hair out of his eyes and rub his hand down his face is alarming. You brace yourself for the worst.

“Let us make one thing very clear, Wilson. I do not like you. In fact, I barely tolerate your existence. It is but for the simple reason that my son seems to be enamored with you that you still yet draw breath,” he snarls, only softening the sharpness of his tongue when mentioning Peter.

Abruptly turning back to the stove, you scowl at the rising bubbles in the pancake batter before you. They burst at the surface in a vague resemblance of your mottled skin. The overwhelming urge to cover your exposed face and shoulders makes you almost retreat to Peter’s room, but to do so would mean Baby Boy’s pancakes would burn. Your pride isn’t worth that.

Loki continues. “However, like yourself, I too have experienced the pain of loving a mortal. Even the most beautiful of moments are flavored with the bitter taste of inevitability. It is Tony’s desire, as well as my own, that you offer Peter this gift.”

Through your silent tears, you look at the bowl of diced, golden fruit that the god places next to the stovetop.

“I can only trust that your affections are not fleeting,” he states softly and walks out of the room.


	3. Wade Wilson/Peter Parker/Samuel Alexander (Nova) Rated: E (for Everyone gets fucked)

This is a prompt fill for an Anon on Tumblr who requested: “Samuel Alexander (Nova)/Wade/Peter threesome.” (Nova is of age)

 

 

Samuel Alexander (Nova) POV

A drop of sweat meanders down Peter’s heaving chest and illustrates a wet line all the way down to his swollen, bobbing cock. You watch, enraptured, as the lithe man sheaths your own member into his body inch by inch with each greedy roll of his hips. You’ve never felt anything so overwhelmingly incredible as the tight, pulsing heat of him slip sliding up and down your shaft with just enough friction to catch subtly at your skin.

Collapsing back to the soft mattress in the wake of Peter’s pistoning assault, you aren’t surprised to feel Wade gently brush his fingers across your lips while he kneels next to your face. He presses a soft kiss against your sweaty brow, then briefly pinches your nose shut and laughs when you gasp for breath, mouth wide.

“Fuck yeah, Sammy-boy, just like that,” he chuckles.

The weight of the massive mercenary’s dick on your lips and tongue is more welcome than you could ever possibly express right now.

Luckily, he and Peter can somehow translate your ridiculous moans and scrabbling fingers.

Peter swiftly leans down and brackets Wade’s textured dick between both of your mouths, causing spittle to roll down your cheek with each shallow thrust of Wade’s hips. With a deep moan, Wade presses down on the back of Peter’s damp neck and begins to use the tunnel of your joint mouths relentlessly. Meanwhile, Peter continues to ride you enthusiastically despite his awkward bowed position.

As your eyes cross and fire races along your skin, you send up a thankful prayer to the gods of yoga.


	4. Wade Wilson/Peter Parker Rated: M

This is a prompt fill for an Anon on Tumblr who requested "Spider-Man/Deadpool number 1 (“Come over here and make me.”)"

 

 

“Baby Boy, I’m going to go to town on your southern Chimichanga like it’s an all you can eat buffet until your eyes cross and you come hot sauce,” Wade’s husky voice makes the phone speaker resonate against Peter’s ear. Grinning, Peter shifts the phone to his shoulder and begins to shuffle through the Avenger’s Tower larder. “Come hot sauce, eh? Why don’t you come over here and make me,” he teases back, absently rifling through a mountain of pop-tart boxes.

An electric hiss and crackle rends the air behind him as Wade simply appears in the pantry door-way, red-clad body blocking the light.

“What the…” Peter gasps, whipping around. “Ah, my spicy tomatillo,” Wade drawls, grinning as he kicks the folding door shut behind him. “Fiery arachnid delicacies should never dare roguishly good-looking mercenaries with teleportation belts.” Peter’s warm laugh sinks into Wade’s skin, both comfortable and familiar.

With practiced ease, Wade drops to his knees and yanks Peter’s sweat pants down to his ankles. “Oh, Petey-pie went commando today. Me likey!” the mercenary exclaims before taking Peter’s half-hard cock into his mouth without preamble. “Jesus, Wade, a little warning,” Peter gasps as he clutches at the shelves for purchase and drops his head back at the sensation of heat and pressure where he needs it most.

The soft click of the pantry door opening goes unnoticed over the lurid sounds of wet sucking and breathy moans.

“Could you toss me a Ramen?” Clint asks, defeated. Without interruption, Wade blindly grabs a packet of noodles and tosses it over his shoulder. “Thanks,” Barton says, stiffly turning towards the kitchen and kicking the door shut with perhaps too much force.


	5. Wade Wilson/Peter Parker Rated: E

This is a prompt fill for Kaitslyn on AO3, who requested: “I have two. Both are Spideypool and the prompts are #18 (“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”) and #37. (“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”) Any rating is fine.”

This is for #18.

 

 

 

“Jesus, Wade. This is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan you’ve ever had,” Peter snarls, gasping at the cold slide of a gun barrel against his bare inner thigh. The damp heat of his leg rises up in visible little eddies of condensation on the crisp stainless steel barrel of a GP 100.

Lube drips down his buttocks and smears across the Captain America duvet as Wade presses the gun further and begins to casually circle Peter’s anus at the apex of his spread legs. Every slow pass makes Peter flinch in a heady mixture of fear and anticipation.

Wade glances up at him from where he’s kneeling on the floor next to the bed, mask off and cheeks mottled red beneath the scars. “Are you still in, Baby Boy,” he asks, no hint of playfulness in his tone as he confirms Peter’s consent. The gun barrel, sans front sight, presses dangerously close to penetration.

“Did I stutter? Of course I’m in,” Peter retorts with a snide little tone that Wade can’t wait to destroy.


	6. Wade Wilson/Peter Parker Rated: M

This is a prompt fill for Kaitslyn on AO3, who requested: “I have two. Both are Spideypool and the prompts are #18 (“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”) and #37. (“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”) Any rating is fine.”

This is for #37.

 

 

“Let him go.”

The force of the blow slams Peter into the building façade with the clarion call of snapping bones. He takes the hit gracelessly and sprawls in a pained heap amid the dust and debris of the ruined wall, brick fragments settling on his shoulders like a mantle. Gagging, he tears his mask off and spits a mouthful of blood onto the ground.

“I said, let…him…go,” Peter growls, pausing to gasp between each word.

His aggressor stands tall and dark, backlit by the glowing lights of the city. Writhing tentacles, black as pitch, lap playfully against Wade’s pocked skin as it appears in roving windows through the undulating layers of symbiote.

“He issssss a good hossssst. Sssssstrong. We will keep him, ssssilly sssspider,” Venom says, hissing around the mass of his dexterous tongue.

Peter presses firmly against the deep puncture wounds in his side, courtesy of Venom’s claws, and stumbles to his feet. Blood saturates his costume so heavily in parts that he could be mistaken for Deadpool from a distance.

The thought nearly makes him choke on a sob.

“Please, Venom. Fuck. Please, just give Wade back,” he manages to choke out despite the overwhelming waves of pain. The shifting form before him begins to turn hazy in his vision, though Peter can’t determine whether it’s from blood loss or otherwise.

Without warning, Venom falls to the ground, lashing at motes of dust and shadow, Spiderman forgotten. “What issss thissss?” he screams, voice rising in pitch. Hallucinations, the stuff of nightmares, assail the symbiote from within. With expert precision, the insidious hooks of pitch laced beneath Wade’s skin and tied to the meat of him are dislodged by diaphanous, but fierce blades of yellow and white afterimage.

With an explosive burst, gelatinous black sludge peels away from its host revealing a beaming, very naked, Wade Wilson. “Didn’t Momma-Venom ever warn you not to fuck with crazy? Nice job boys; that was pretty badass,” he crows in triumph, idly nudging the quivering, black globules with his toes.

The reverent, broken utterance of his name draws Wade’s attention to where Peter is half-staggering his way across the blood-strewn roof. “Holy shit, you’re hurt, Baby Boy!” Wade exclaims, reaching out to wrap his spider-babe up in the cage of his muscular arms as the kid collapses.

Peter blearily opens his eyes and stares at the popcorn stucco ceiling of Wade’s apartment, disoriented and confused. “What happened?” he murmurs, not expecting a response. But a large hand pats down his hair affectionately and Wade’s deep, rich voice washes over him like a balm.

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes,” the mercenary says softly, love and adoration in his eyes.

### Actions


	7. Wade Wilson/Peter Parker Rated: T

This is a prompt fill for [@staubengel](https://tmblr.co/mPdrCvYxjKOvhgFKQfw13aQ) who requested: “Spideypool - 3 - “Please, don’t leave.” With lots of fluff please? :3”

 

 

Love and adoration tear a hole in Wade’s chest far more painful and far more permanent than any exit wound. The fact that this is real, that Peter-goddamn-Parker somehow chose Wade Wilson to be the one to keep him close and protect the fragility of his giant, arachnid heart, is almost too much to bear.

Every night, Peter ignores the sheets in favor of wrapping himself against the furnace of Wade’s body and every night Wade studiously watches him fall asleep, waiting for the rug to be pulled out from beneath him. Good things like this just aren’t meant for people like him. But Peter doesn’t see it that way; he finds the soft spots in Wade and hooks his claws in like affectionate little anchors of trust and forgiveness.

Unconditional love is a weapon for which Wade has no defense.

“Baby Boy, please don’t leave,” he whispers softly, voice thick, as he presses his cheek against Peter’s forehead. “Please don’t let this be just another fuckin’ hallucination. I couldn’t take it. Life isn’t worth living without you in it.”

And the pain of the admission resonates through his body, gaining in magnitude, until soft lips press against his neck and chase away the insidious tendrils of fear and rejection. “Mm not going anywhere,” Peter mumbles sleepily as he nuzzles closer. “Love you and you’re stuck with me.”

The ceiling wavers in Wade’s vision.

“Love you too, Baby Boy.”


	8. Wade Wilson/Peter Parker Rated: T

This is a prompt for [Nymfen](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fusers%2FNymfen%2Fpseuds%2FNymfen&t=Y2E5ODViYjI5ODM2ZWMyYzAzYzdlNzRlZTdkYzkzZDQyMGNkNDdkOCxQR09ocklHSw%3D%3D) on AO3: “spideypool 34 :D You heard me, take it off.”

 

Wade slams his fist into the mirror and stares down at the splatter of blood that stains the sink like a Jackson Pollock painting. [How the ever loving shit did you let this kid get so close to you?] “I don’t fucking know,” he rumbles in response to the unvoiced question that rattles around in his brain case.

He recalls Peter standing before him, dressed for battle in nothing more than a pair of Captain America boxers and mismatched socks. “I mean it Wade, you owe me this damn much,” the kid says, fury evident in every tense muscle on his lithe little body.

“I don’t owe you shit, Baby Boy,” Wade retorts, immediately knowing it’s a mistake. In a flash, Peter is there, shoving the mercenary back towards the threadbare couch, angry tears threatening to slip free.

“You heard me! Take. It. Off,” he snarls, emphasizing each word with a sharp shove and staring pointedly at the hem of Deadpool’s mask. Wade allows himself to be pushed down onto the stiff cushions and immediately takes the weight of Peter as the kid deliberately straddles his lap.

“Petey, I can’t,” Wilson manages to choke out, resistance dwindling under the assault of those lovely, brown eyes. “Yes,” Peter responds firmly, wrenching the mask from Wade’s face without fanfare, “you can.”

He stares down at the mercenary’s pocked, scarred skin and smiles through the tears.

“See,” he says, voice cracking. “You’re beautiful.”


	9. Deadpool solo Rated: E

[Nymfen ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fusers%2FNymfen%2Fpseuds%2FNymfen&t=N2Y2ZjZkZGQ0M2ZlNDQzNjlkZTU4NWNmNTllOWI0MDY4MmE4OWU5ZixjTndFNk1jdA%3D%3D)on AO3 asked for “deadpool, 13 <3”

 

Humidity wreaths the bathroom tile in a pearly sheen of tiny water drops, reflecting the flickering light of the incandescent bulb overhead. The sound of distant barking and car horns isn’t exactly Barry White, but Wade is too close to the precipice of orgasm to care.

“Oh, fuck yeah, Baby Boy, just like that,” he moans through the wet fabric of his mask, clutching the bathroom sink with one hand so tightly that it cracks. The skillful, spandex-covered palm on his cock speeds up incrementally, its texture rough against Wade’s preternaturally heated skin.

“So close, so fucking close,” he chokes out. His breath hitches in his throat as the first creeping tendrils of release make his toes curl and legs ache. Hot waves of sensation rush through his loins like a conflagration. Wade slips his fingers beneath the hem of his mask and wrenches it up over his nose in one quick, near-frantic motion.

“Kiss me,” he pleads, instead taking the initiative and slamming his lips into the cold, wet surface before him.

With that, his shaft pulses mercilessly and coats the bathroom sink with ropes of pale, translucent come. Wade takes a moment to catch his breath.

He clutches the bathroom sink with two hands now and stares at his reflection in the mirror through the smeared condensation.

“Oh, Righty, I think I’m in love,” he says with a shit-eating grin.


	10. Wade Wilson/Peter Parker Rated: E

This is a prompt fill for an Anon on Tumblr who requested: “Spider-Man/Deadpool number 1.” How about an Alpha/Omega-verse? :D

 

 

“Wade, come on! Stop being a stupendous asshole for like five seconds,” Peter whines, grinding against one of Wade’s muscular thighs and making an absolutely sodden mess of his cotton boxers. Pheromones lace the air so heavily that they form an olfactory minefield throughout the small apartment. Any alpha within a ten county radius could pick up on his heat markers, but of course, Peter had to pick the one goddamn alpha with roving bouts of cancerous tumors in his nasal cleft. “Seriously. Mariocart can wait. I fucking _need_ you,” he pleads with another frantic thrust of his hips.

Sprawling languorously on the couch, the mercenary leans around Peter’s writhing body and continues to violently smash his thumbs into the worn Nintendo controller. “Baby boy, this is important. I’m about to squeeze sweet, sweet victory out of the swinging teats of Rainbow Road,” he retorts absently, mistaking Peter’s grasping hands and fluttering eyes as his typical distraction techniques.

“God, you are so gross,” Peter responds, his voice breaking on an unmitigated sob. His sudden tears strike Wade’s pocked skin with the mournful cadence of a dirge. Almost instantly, Wade abruptly throws the controller onto the couch and snatches Peter’s lithe body up in his arms. “Shit, is it that time already?” Wade asks, wide-eyed. Desperately wrapping his legs around the mercenary’s hips, Peter can do nothing more than moan his need into Wade’s skin.

“Alright, Petey, I’ve got ya,” he says, placing a tender kiss on his mate’s brow and swiftly pressing his back against the couch cushions.


	11. Wade Wilson/Peter Parker Rated: M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets abducted and Wade loses his shit.

This is a prompt fill for myself because I currently have a hankering for death and destruction.

Wade Wilson/Peter Parker—Warning for gore?

 

 

 

Wade

You stare at your hands in horror where goblets of congealed blood gather in thick clots. For the life of you, you can’t remember how it all wound up there. But there it is, seeping in through the seams of your gloves and making your skin tacky beneath.

A sharp gasp makes you glance up from your daze.

Peter’s right there in front of you, gagged and bound to a chair and staring at you with wide-eyes as if the blood on your hands is his own. It’s not though. Dark purple rosettes gather across his brow and cheekbones and one of his eyes is swollen shut, but you know you would never mar your baby boy’s precious skin like that.

Vague memories of Stark’s frantic voice on the phone telling you of Spider-Man’s abduction flit to the forefront of your mind. But before you can make heads or tails of them, the visions evaporate like morning dew. It doesn’t make sense.

You kneel and reach out to caress the side of your lover’s face only for him to rear back in horror.

Oh, that’s right… You marvel at the wash of red on your hands once more and only happen to notice that it’s on your front as well. It’s everywhere, actually. Your hand slowly drops as you turn to survey the room behind you. Where did all of this shit come from?

What used to be human bodies lie in piles of shredded fabric and viscera. The walls are red with more than just paint and a steady drip echoes from the light fixtures above. But you can’t seem to recall how any of these meat-sacks came to be here. All you remember is the wet sound of a slap, a yelp of pain, and then your vision coalescing into a tunnel of red.

You turn back to Peter and apologize in a broken whisper.

You’ll never be the hero he wants you to be.


	12. Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Ronan the Accuser/Peter Quill  Rated:T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool's mouth manages to land him in an alien slave market. Peter Parker and his host Gaurdians are not amused.

This is for an anon on Tumblr who requested: "Spideypool in space please!"

 

 

Peter Parker sighs heavily as he strides towards the bustling auction-house at the center of the space station, flanked by the infamous Starlord and a perpetually pouting Kree Accuser by the name of Ronan. He elbows his way through the crowd of extraterrestrials, pointedly ignoring the snarls and clips of foreign language that are surely expletives. He’s so pissed off that it’s likely a good thing he can’t understand the snide commentary right now, anyways.  

Teaming up with the Guardians of the Galaxy had probably been one of the most amazing moments of Spider-man’s life to date. The technology alone was enough to leave him in a near-catatonic state of wonderment. Of course, leave it to Wade to ruin it all by cavorting off on his own and running his giant mouth in the wrong part of the quadrant.

It had taken nearly three solar days of frantic sleuthing and, ultimately, a few blown kneecaps to finally figure out what had happened to Peter’s attention-deficit partner. Apparently Wade had made such a lasting impression on the galaxy that he was up for auction at the Katar quadrant’s slave market.

Hell, he’s probably loving the attention, Peter thinks snidely as he storms through the space station’s galley.

Quill places a consolatory hand on Peter’s shoulder and pulls him up short. “Hey buddy, I know I’m the last one to be saying this, but we should probably come up with a plan before jumping in, guns blazing,” he mutters, eyes roving the rough crowd cautiously. “Back me up Ro.”

Ronan merely sneers at them both and leans casually against his Universal Weapon. “Perhaps the universal powers have seen fit to bless us with the gift of the puling imbecile’s untimely demise,” he comments idly instead. Incredulous, Quill stares him down and stabs an accusatory finger into the Kree’s chest plate. “You are so sleeping on the couch,” he hisses.

Without comment, Peter shakes Quill’s hand off of his shoulder and blinks back angry tears as he continues to navigate his way beneath a tall portico of what appears to be glass. Before him stretches a respectably sized amphitheater with an elaborate plinth at its center and a familiar red-clad anti-hero chained to its berth. Immediately beside Wade stands an eerily insectoid alien calling out bids in the rapid-fire manner of auctioneers everywhere.

“I’ll bid infinity times one hundred space bucks,” Peter exclaims from the back of the room, arm upraised as he strides down the nearest aisle with purpose. A hush sweeps across the packed rows as all eyes, and a sundry of other sensory organs, focus on him. “What, are space bucks not a real thing?” he continues, affecting disbelief.

“Well, whatever. I promise, you all don’t want that guy anyways.” Kneeling atop the dais in the center of the room, Wade shoots him a wide, bemused smile. He looks roughed up, but still in one vaguely Deadpool-shaped piece. The worrisome part is that he’s not talking.

“He’s loud, obnoxious, smells like cheap texmex half the time. I mean seriously, you’re scraping the bottom of the barrel here,” Peter drawls, removing his mask and smoothing his hair into some semblance of order as he approaches. “I would cut my losses and just hand him over. If anything, that big, blue jackhole behind me sure would be happy to have his punching bag back.”

Flagging behind, Quill covertly palms his elemental gun and drags along a decidedly unamused Ronan by the pauldron. A small battalion of security officers swarms from all sides to intercept Peter as he nears the dais despite the looming threat of a Kree Accuser in their midst.

But Spider-man isn’t having it. Diplomatic space-relations be damned, these bastards took something precious, someone that wasn’t theirs to take. He discards all of his prior reservations against inflicting heavy bodily damage and revels in the crack of armor beneath his fists.

In a matter of seconds, it’s over.

Ronan watches Peter step over the twitching bodies with grudging respect, then casts a bored glance about the room that sends the auctioneer off screaming and sets off a cascade of movement in the rows of bidders.

Peter kneels down in front of Wade and runs a gloved finger over the heavy band around his neck. It’s made of an odd, translucent metal that whines ominously every time that he attempts to speak.

Peter can only smile softly. “Well, I guess the universe finally found a way to shut you up,” he observes casually. Wade rolls his eyes and forgoes struggling against the collar’s control to instead insert the index finger of one hand into the crude O-shape of the other.

Chuckling, Peter bats away his lewd hand gesture and tenderly strokes a mottled cheek where old blood clings in dry flakes. “Be more careful next time, idiot,” he murmurs, breath caressing the merc’s chapped lips. Seconds later, he closes the distance and chases the taste that is uniquely Wade.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about filling these prompts. ;)


	13. Wade Wilson/Peter Parker (Venom) Rated: E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Venom symbiote and Peter take Wade for a ride.

Wade moans without restraint around the writhing mass of tentacles seated deep within him. The stretch in his jaw and ass is enough to burn, but the sensation is tempered by the feel of Peter’s body as the kid rides him, clutching and pulsing around his cock.

Peter is pleasure in its purest form, his appeal only made more potent by the contrasting burn of symbiotic tentacles buried in Wade’s every other orifice. The mercenary thinks that Venom may have made a couple more orifices just out of spite. Or perhaps intractable passion.

The strength and ferocity with which the tentacles thrash and the way the symbiote’s tongue lolls against his slack jaw stand as evidence towards the latter.  

There is something addictive about the heady amalgamation of pain and pleasure that simply can’t be described in words. And so, with a reedy whine, Wade spreads his legs further and takes every generously girthy inch of tentacle. He digs in his heels and tries to find enough purchase to grind back on the black mass from where he is pinned at the hips by Peter’s substantial weight.

Venom rewards his fervor with a hiss and snakes slender probes along Wade’s throbbing cock. They travel unerringly further to pierce the tight ring of the humans' conjoined bodies.

Wade squirms and manages to suck savagely on the throbbing tentacle in his mouth until the bulge is evident in the arch of his throat. Air is a distant memory and starbursts explode behind his eyes, heralding the looming threat of asphyxiation. His eventual reward is a deluge of bitter fluid that sits hot and satisfying in his stomach.

The Venom symbiote flows around Peter and arcs from his skin in agitated bursts, reminiscent of solar flares. Regardless, the near-frantic pistoning of the kid’s hips never slows. A sliver of his face is revealed only once, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. But that one glimpse is all Wade needs.

When the first pulses of his release fill the hot, humid channel of Peter’s body, Wade’s throat bleeds from the force of his scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::Grins innocently::


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Apocalypse has come and gone. Wade just wants to find his way home.

Alright, after a bit of a hiatus, I’m back with more prompt fills. :D

This is a prompt fill for Anonymous, who requested: “Can I have apocalypse Spideypool?”

 

 

Peter Parker had succumbed to the ravages of illness and time long ago. As his star faded out, whisper soft, so too did Wade’s drive to continue the farce of living. The sickness that had claimed the man he loved most swept across the globe in turn, slaughtering indeterminately and without quarter. The corpses remained where they had fallen, scoured by scavengers and the elements alike, until even their bones were no more than dust in the wind.

The seasons shifted unremarked while Wade drifted aimlessly amongst the detritus and debris, following on the heels of the playful specter of his lost love.

It took five years for the hallucination of Peter’s ghost and his clear peals of laughter to finally fade away. Two years after that, Wade’s ceaseless prattling petered out as well. All that remained in the world was his silence.

And in that silence, a plan began to take root.

It had taken all of the resources at his disposal as well as another three arduous years of footwork to discover the passcodes that would lead to his untimely demise.

And so, he glanced around the abandoned missile silo and called out a greeting in a voice rough from disuse just to hear the sound of another person after going so long without. This would be his last grand gesture, his last act before he could immerse himself in the warm acceptance of Peter’s smile once more. He mounted the control platform and powered up the launch station. The now-ancient generators came to life with a groan and the guidance systems on the cache of nuclear warheads flickered cheerily as they accepted his coordinates.

Rockets flared to life around him and jettisoned their payload into the sky. As one, the three dozen warheads arched down from whence they had come and zeroed in on his location.

“I’m coming home, Baby Boy,” Wade whispered as he embraced oblivion with open arms.

 

 

 


End file.
